House-Managed!

I could tell that she was pissed by the way that she sat there, alone, in the center of the theater seats. The few stragglers from the 8pm show were huddled by the door, heading out. My team, International Stinger, was the third team to perform that night and as such, we got our notes after our set, from our coach. We'd killed. Just killed. I had a moment handed to me on a silver platter from Kgb that absolutely destroyed the audience. (Which says more about how generous a player she is than how clever I am.) Bob was in a great mood. The notes went well. I was in a great mood. And when I walked into the theater, feeling like Belushi in 1977, I ran into a rain cloud waiting for me. An angry house manager.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"Sure, what's up?" I asked. I sat down next to her, feeling the thunder and lightning when a warm front crashes into a cold front and both refuse to give way. I thought, maybe a little bit of charm will diffuse the situation.

"When you guys are on box office, you're NOT supposed to leave the box office. You're supposed to have somebody in there, at all times. You can't leave the money unattended." The words were sharp and staccato. She'd been waiting for a bit, to chew me out. This was all a prepared speech.

"Okay, we didn't leave it unattended. Laura here," I helpfully pointed out Laura, who was watching the whole conversation, "covered for us, when we had to step away from the booth."

"Sorry, yeah. I was the one who brought you the money." Laura added helpfully.

"Okay," said the house manager, "I didn't know."

"No problem. As long as it got covered, right?" I was trying to brush this all off.

"Also, I have another note for you," she said, "Don't make fun of the house manager, when you're hosting. It looks un-professional."

"What do you mean, the bit about there being no music at the end? That part?" I was trying to remember a time when I really did grieve her about her house management. I thought that the whole night ran rather smoothly. There was a bit of dead air at the end of the show, but we played it for a few laughs and I thought it was relatively harmless. Apparently, she did not.

"Yes, that's EXACTLY what I mean. Don't make fun of me like that, ever again." and THIS was where all of the anger came from.

"Look, that was all just bits. Don't take it seriously. It happened, I joked about it, but it was no big deal."

"I think it was a big deal."

"Well, I don't," I countered. I felt angry, to be dragged into this discussion like this. Her personal issues were overwhelming her judgement and she was mis-using her authority at the theater to turn it into a professionalism issue. When it very clearly was not. I felt myself getting angry. "Listen, I was just joking with you, just like I would joke with anyone else. You need to let this go."

"It was insulting. I was insulted by it."

"Well, you're choosing to be. I'm telling you what my intentions were and insulting you was no part of it." God, please let this go. I can't be more clear than that.

"But, that's how I felt." she stated. Face red and angry. Refusing to let this go.

"Well, I guess everything around here is ran by the whims of HOW YOU FEEL, isn't it?" And I got up, walking away from her and her idiocy. Everyone standing there was shocked by the whole ugly little spat. They heard her trying to trump up negligence in the Box Office as a point to back up an unrelated argument. And there were all keenly aware that she was broadcasting her own insecurities and trying to turn them into something that she could officially chastise me for. It was so obvious and ugly, that nobody talked. We all just walked out, in silence. I checked the last trashcans and dumped the last of the trash, mumbling obscenities under my breath. I left without saying anything further to her.

Was I wrong not to just "shut up" and apologize, when I'd done no wrong?
Was it wrong not to accept and justify her anger and give it the proper deference?

I don't know. I can't say. At the time, I couldn't allow myself to get dragged into a pointless and stupid argument over nothing. At the time, it was so clear to me that her feelings were hurt and she was determined to hurt mine, too. Childish? Yes. But all too human.

The truth is, I am sorry that she got her feelings hurt. I'm also sorry that she chose to sit around and stew about it, looking for other things to write us up about. I'm sorry that she was so stubborn to hold onto her offense, that she couldn't see lack of hostility, until it became what she was looking for: actual hostility.

Dames, ya can't live with 'em. Ya can't cut off their oxygen supplies until they pass out, either!

Cheers,
Mr,B